In your immediate view, about 28 clicks away, a woman holds forth a pink erotic toy, flailing it around like an object of religious idolatry.

Further away, a man with a DSLR is being worshipped by narcissistic soldiers.

An overzealous youth climbs the light and audio gear, looking to display alpha traits. He falls on his back, and the cheers which accompanied his rise, are abruptly stopped, only to be reignited when the individual raises up a mangled thumbs-up.

You look to your left - fireworks and lasers are blasting away. Smoke obscures the stage ahead - it's the fog of war. Sensory overload.

You can now hear a baby crying.

A FUCKING BABY.

Then suddenly, it hits

Like a surgical strike.

It’s that beat you’ve been waiting for, at the perfect time and place, with the perfect people.

Your spine tingles, everyone is smiling, and you seem to have a raging erection.

It’s a cosmic gift – an ecstasy of good vibes.

Whatever that beat brings, your body knows what’s up before your consciousness has time to catch up.

Life is good – but the music’s even better.

The trek

The trek from the battlefield is long and arduous. Tears flow alongside song and merriment. Some males boast with war stories, while others continue their D&Ms - all together in perfect harmony.

Though there is one man, found rocking back and forth in the foetal position after having miscalculated the extent and timing of his ‘indulgences.’

Not you however.

You have an air of contentment - an aura of chill. You fought valiantly and claimed your purple heart for creating a good fucking time.